French’s International Copyrighted (in England, her Colonies, and 
the United States) Edition of the Works of the Best Authors 


No. 325 

THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE 


A Play in One Act 


• BY • 

f HOMER HILDRETH HOWARD • 

: 

♦ _ # 


Copyright, 1916, by SAMUEL FRENCH 



NOTICE.—Amateurs may produce this play without pay¬ 
ment of royalty. Terms for professional rights will he 
quoted on application. 


PRICE 25 CENTS 


London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. - 
26 Southampton Street 
STRAND 


New York 
SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

28-30 WEST 3Stii STREET 














THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE 

A Play in One Act 


BY 

HOMER HILDRETH HOWARD 


Copyright, 1916, by SAMUEL FRENCH 


NOTICE.—Amateurs may produce this play without pay¬ 
ment of royalty. Terms for professional rights will be 
quoted on application. 


PRICE 25 CENTS 



NEW YORK 

SAMUEL FRENCH 


PUBLISHER 

28-30 WEST 38TH STREET 


LONDON 

SAMUEL FRENCH. LTD. 

26 SOUTHAMPTON STREET 

STRAND 





THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE. 


CHARACTERS. 


{In order of appearance.) 


Mrs. Barnes An ordinary woman of the working 
class, but one who has taken advantage of every 
means in her power to improve herself. She 
has developed ideas rather in advance of the 
other women of her class. She is extremely 
neat, as is her house, even if it is very poor. 
She is very intense, sad and subdued, although 
she is capable of blazing out determinedly at 
moments 

Jack . A messenger boy 

Mrs. Keegan.... An Irishwoman. A neighbor of 

Mrs. Barnes 

Jim Barnes . A good enough fellow, but weak 

The Baby 


Place: —A City. 
Time: —The present. 



JON 24 1916 


©CI.D 44234 


TMP92—009228 





THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE. 


Scene : — A basement room in a tenement house* 
It contains only the barest necessities. There 
is a stove dozvn l. and a large wooden rocker 
near it. Up l. is a small stand zvith a bucket, 
dipper and basin. Down r. a cupboard with 
china and near it a table zvith tzvo chairs. A door 
up r. leads into a bedroom. Against the wall 
are piled boxes of artificial flowers. The room 
is poor, but extremely neat. At rise, a woman 
in blue and zvhite calico is seated at the 
table making flowers. She stops, takes out a 
cabinet-sized photograph from her pocket and 
looks at it, is about to kiss it, puts it dozvn with 
a sigh and begins work again. A messenger boy 
is seen through the door. A knock. 

The Woman. Come in. 

{The boy comes in.) 

The Boy. Hullo, Mrs. Barnes. Any flowers 
ready for me to-day? 

* When the play was produced at the Toy Theatre, 
Boston, the room was lighted by two half-windows, one on 
either side of the door in the middle of the rear wall, and 
by a window which filled the upper half of the door. This 

door was at the bottom of a flight of stairs leading down 
from the side-walk. Through the glass in the door and 
through the half-windows one could see a gray stone wall 
surmounted by an iron railing. 



4 THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE. 

(Mrs. Barnes wearily points to three large boxes.) 

Mrs. Barnes. Them’s ready. Ain’t there no 
message nor orders from the firm? 

Jack. Sure. There’s always orders for you. ( He 
gives her an envelope and gets down the boxes while 
she reads the note. In doing so he brushes the 
photograph onto the floor, picks it up and looks at 
it) 

Mrs. Barnes. They want carnations. They’ve 
forgot I don’t like to make ’em. 

Jack. ( Reading from the photograph) “ George 
Barnes. William Barnes.” Was them yours, Mrs. 
Barnes ? 

(Mrs. Barnes looks at him and comes over to him.) 

Mrs. Barnes. Yes, Jack. William—he’d a been 
your size by now if he’d a lived; George, he was 
younger.—I’ve often looked at you when you come 
for the flowers—and thought o’ my William. I 
couldn’t keep from thinkin’ a lot about ’em to-day, 
and I had that out lookin’ at it. Don’t do no good— 
just makes me sad like. ( She reaches for the photo¬ 
graph and takes the boy’s hand in hers. He is shy 
at first. She draws him towards her) Jack—Jack 
—How red and cold your hands is! Ain’t you no 
mittens ? 

Jack. I don’t mind. 

Mrs. Barnes. Well, you come right over here to 
the stove and get ’em warm. ( She leads him to the 
big chair by the stove and has him spread out his 
hands to the heat. She stands looking at him) Just 
wait till I see. ( She goes to the cupboard and takes 
a pair of mittens from one of the drazvers. S\he 
comes back to him and looks down at him for a 
moment) Jack—I couldn’t never give these away. 
They was for William—but you—may as well have 
’em. 


THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE. 5 

Jack. ( Standing up and taking them) Gee! 
Thank you, Mrs. Barnes! 

(She is fond of him and puts an arm around his 

neck.) 

Mrs. Barnes. Is your mother good to you? 
Jack. Y-es. ( Quickly) You know there’s 
others at home besides me. 

(Mrs. Barnes gathers him into her arms, stroking 
his hair, and says to herself:) 

Mrs. Barnes. Oh, Jack!—Why is it that them 
as has ’em can’t be good to ’em and them as would 
be good to ’em can’t have ’em? ( Rousing herself) 
Well, well—I must go back to my flowers ! ( She 

goes reluctantly to the table and he watches her a 
moment) 

Jack. My mother takes in washing. 

Mrs. Barnes. She does ? 

Jack. I suspect she don’t make as much money 
as you do makin’ flowers. {He is putting on his 
mittens and gathering up the boxes) 

Mrs. Barnes. I do earn a tidy bit. If our boys 
had lived! My man’s been steady now a good 
little while. {She sighs) That’s how it goes.—Jack, 
won’t you kiss me? {He hangs back for a moment 
and then comes to her and kisses her. She holds him 
in her arms for a moment. Then he gathers up his 
boxes and goes. She goes to the door with him) 
They’re bulky like, but not heavy.—Good-bye, Jack! 
Jack. {Outside) ’Bye, Mrs. Barnes. 

(Mrs. Barnes watches him a moment, then comes 
back to the table humming happily and begins 
work. Her fingers move more and more slozvly 
and the humming grows more and more halting. 
She stops to look at the picture and puts it down 


6 THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE. 

resolutely and goes to work. A woman is seen 
through the door. She comes in. She is 
dressed in black and carries a bunch of half 
withered pink carnations. She sits in the large 
rocking-chair.) 

The Woman. Good-afternoon to ye. 

Mrs. Barnes. How do you do, Mrs. Keegan. 

Mrs. Keegan. It’s that boy from the factory I 
just passed and him with three big boxes. It’s not 
another married woman in the neighborhood that 
works as hard as you do yourself. 

Mrs. Barnes. My husband’s as good as any 
woman’s in the whole section, Mrs. Keegan; if it 
wasn’t for the drink. 

Mrs. Keegan. It’s beasts they are, all of ’em. 
But it’s not without ’em we could be doin’ at all, at 
all. 

Mrs. Barnes. We ought not to be always depend¬ 
ing on ’em. 

Mrs. Keegan. Ah, that’s some of the advancin’ 
ideas you’re after gettin’ at the settlement house. 

Mrs. Barnes. Well, don’t I, myself, earn as much 
as Jim? 

Mrs. Keegan. But if all the women was to take 
to earnin’ their own themselves, where at all, at all, 
would the next generation be ? 

Mrs. Barnes. There’s too many boys now, who’ll 
only grow up to be like their fathers. Oh, I s’pose 
I ought to be almost glad my two boys died'! 

Mrs. Keegan. Oh, my, Mrs. Barnes !—Well, and 
here am I, almost forgettin’ about the lovely funeral, 
and you not bein’ able to be in it at all, at all! Just 
see the beautiful flowers, and Mary give them to me; 
they’re right off her mother’s coffin! 

Mrs. Barnes. Gi’ me one. I’ve got to make 
some carnations and I’ve forgot how. (Mrs. 
Keegan hands over one of the flowers which Mrs. 
Barnes takes and looks at intently and caresses) 


THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE. 


7 


What’s goin’ to become of that woman’s two, poor, 
orphan children? 

Mrs. Keegan. For Mary, it’s arranged that a 
rich lady will take her into her house. 

Mrs. Barnes. She’s hardly twelve, yet! She’ll 
be worked half to death! 

Mrs. Keegan. Work! It’s no work she’ll be 
doin’! It’s adopted she is ! 

Mrs. Barnes. Adopted!! (Mrs. Barnes stops 
working for a moment and then begins again rapidly. 
She stops again and then forces herself to work. 
Her next, speeches show intensity mixed with ex¬ 
citement and indecision. Mrs. Keegan goes on 
without paying any attention to her) 

Mrs. Keegan. And sure, the lady has a house as 
big as the whole of Muggin’s Department Store it¬ 
self, if what they tell me is truth! 

Mrs. Barnes. Anybody goin’ to take the baby, 
George ? 

Mrs. Keegan. Nobody, that I know of. 

Mrs. Barnes. ( Much excited) He’ll have to go 
to the Orphan’s Home? 

Mrs. Keegan. It’s likely.—You should a seen 
the dress the lady wore and she cornin’ to the buryin’! 

Mrs. Barnes. ( Thoughtfully, sighing) The 

woman who’s goin’ to take Mary’s rich, I s’pose ? 

Mrs. Keegan. She is that indeed ! And she with 
six hired girls in her house! 

Mrs. Barnes. Poor baby. (Gets up, zvalks about 
nervously a little and then sits down again) 

Mrs. Keegan. He is so! And I didn’t have five 
o’ my own I’d take him myself. It’s a fine baby it is ! 

Mrs. Barnes. (Half to herself) People who 
haven’t the money to raise ’em ought not to have 
children. 

Mrs. Keegan. Sure, and mine will be as well 
raised as yours, and they still living at all! I’ll be 
goin’ now and leavin’ ye to say your mean things to 
yourself! (She moves towards the door) 


8 


THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE. 


Mrs. Barnes. I was thinkin’ of us, Jim and me, 
not of you, Mrs. Keegan. 

Mrs. Keegan. Maybe you was. I’ll be goin’ 
anyhow. 

Mrs. Barnes. Don’t, I want to talk to you! 

(Mrs. Keegan comes back and sits dozvn .) 

Mrs. Keegan. If it’s decent talk I’ll be after 
hearin’ it. 

(Mrs. Barnes is nervous and hesitates. She comes 
to stand beside Mrs. Keegan.) 

Mrs. Barnes. I—if—I—I’m goin’ to take that 
baby! 

Mrs. Keegan. You’re not surely, Mrs. Barnes! 

Mrs. Barnes. Ah, you who have your house full 
of the voices of children and their little arms around 
your neck, crying sometimes and sometimes laugh¬ 
ing, you don’t know how I long—it’s thirteen years 
since mine went-! 

Mrs. Keegan. Do you know how to raise a boy, 
at all, at all? Your own died, didn’t they? 

Mrs. Barnes. Look here, Mrs. Keegan—I’ve 
never told this to nobody. But ’twas no fault o’ mine 
they died! 

Mrs. Keegan. I didn’t mean that, I just- 

Mrs. Barnes. ( Not heeding her ) It’s hard to 
be married to a drunkard and not have children! 

Mrs. Keegan. What’s that you’re sayin’? 

Mrs. Barnes. ( Half turning azvay) It’s true!— 
I’m a healthy woman—both my boys was weaklings 
—they got tuberculosis and they—died—both ! They 
was bright and they had good brains ! I might never 
a knowed how it was only I heard the doctor talkin’ 
to my Jim. He told him that our boys died because 
their father was a drunkard! 




THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE. 


9 

Mrs. Keegan. Why, Mrs. Barnes. I never heard 
the likes o’ that! 

Mrs. Barnes. He told him again and again that 
the fault was his and his alone. I can hear him a 
say in’ yet, “ Jim Barnes, you’re a drunkard—you’re 
not fit to be the father of boys and girls.” Jim never 
found out that I know, but that’s the reason we’ve 
never had no more children! It wouldn’t be right 
for me to let children come into the world with no 
fair chance to live. (She goes back to the flowers) 

Mrs. Keegan. But my man drinks—is there a 
man at all that don’t ? 

Mrs. Barnes. It’s different! Jim has it in his 
system all the time fairly. “ Alcoholism,” the doctor 
calls it, for I talked to him about it after I heard 
what he told Jim, and he says that a man that has 
used it for a long time, and has it in him that much, 
will be all run down so that if he has children they 
are apt to be took easy by disease. There’s no doubt 
about it. Do you suppose I’d a been all these years 
without children unless there was a good reason fur 
it? 

Mrs. Keegan. You’re a brave woman, Mrs. 
Barnes ! Myself I’d not had the courage to do it! 

Mrs. Barnes. It’s not easv. 

Mrs. Keegan. And will himself never stop 
drinking ? 

Mrs. Barnes. I don’t know! He’s had a right 
long steady spell now. He promised the doctor— 
and he’s promised me. But don’t you understand, 
Mrs. Keegan, that with a man as old him the curse 
is likely to still be on the children! There’s no use! 

Mrs. Keegan. But you’re think o’ takin’ this un ! 

Mrs. Barnes. But, Mrs. Keegan, I just got 
through tellin’ you that would be different! Any 
child o’ our own might be took so but one that’s 
adopted wouldn’t have the curse. Jim’s been steady 
I told you, and we’ve got a bit laid by in the bank. 


10 


THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE. 


I’m hesitatiiT cause I don’t rightly know if we’ve 
got enough to raise him proper. 

Mrs. Keegan. And how much might that take? 

Mrs. Barnes. I don’t rightly know^-but to¬ 
gether I think we might just about manage. Maybe 
it would help to keep Jim sober— ( She clenches her 
hands appealingly) 

Mrs. Keegan. And if 1 wanted a baby like ye do, 
I’d have it; that I would— ( Gets up) 

Mrs. Barnes. Oh, I’ll work with every bit of all 
the strength God gives me for the joy of a child in 
my house! 

(A pause, Mrs. Keegan is uncertain what to do 
and stands about helplessly.) 

Mrs. Keegan. ( Brightening) I’ll run now and 
bring the baby itself fur ye to see. 

Mrs. Barnes. No! No! —Yes, do! Mrs. 

Keegan, do! do! 

(Mrs. Keegan goes out looking back joyously and 
encouragingly at Mrs. Barnes who continues 
to zvalk about nervously and excitedly. She 
looks very happy. 

Mrs. Keegan. ( Calling from outside) I’ll be 
right back; it’s just around the corner. 

$ 

(Mrs. Barnes goes to the door and looks after Mrs. 
Keegan. Then she comes to the table, takes up 
the photograph and looks at it, pressing it to 
her breast. She sits dozvn at the table prepara¬ 
tory to setting to zvork on the flozoers again. 
A moment later a man’s form is seen through 
the door rear. He stumbles against the ma¬ 
sonry, and turns to fumble at the door.) 

Mrs. Barnes. Mrs. Keegan —( Turning quickly) 


THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE. 


ii 


—Jim—( She takes him by the arm and puts him 
into the big chair. He is not drunk, but he has been 
drinking and his mind is not absolutely clear. 
Sighing) Sit here. ( She stands looking dozvn at 
him. He looks up at her) Jim ! Jim ! What’s the 
matter? ( She makes a despairing gesture and turns 
azvay to hide her disappointment. Jim tzvists about 
and grumbles inarticulately) 

Jim. Wasn’t that—Mrs.—Keegan I saw cornin’ 
out o’ here? 

Mrs. Barnes. Yes, Jim. * 

Jim. What’s she after? 

Mrs. Barnes. She was coinin’ from Sarah 
Donnell’s bury in’ and just stopped in to tell me 
about it. 

Jim. Two months since her man died. She left 
some kids, didn’t she? 

Mrs. Barnes. Yes. —Ain’t you home early, 
Jim? 

Jim. Not goin’ back to work to the shop. 

Mrs. Barnes. Jim! 

Jim. Laid off—dull season—what the hell’s the 
use-! 

Mrs. Barnes. I believe you’ve been drinkink 
Don’t go gettin’ discouraged; we’ve got a bit laid up 
for the rainy day. It’s queer how things never keep 
on goin’ good, but we’ll have to be glad we’re ready 
for bad times. ( Looks about to see if Mrs. Keegan 
is coming and then she takes Jim by the arm) 
Come into the bed-room and rest a little—you’re 
tired. You’ll feel different after you’re rested. 
(She gets him into the bed-room up r; the stage is 
bare for a moment. Then Mrs. Keegan, red and 
out of breath hurries in with the baby. A moment 
later Mrs. Barnes returns from the bed-room. She 
closes the door carefully after her) Oh, Mrs. 
Keegan—! ( She buries her face against the baby 

for a moment) 



12 


THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE. 


Mrs. Keegan. I’m all out of breath, I hurried 
that much. Isn’t he just the cute one? 

(Mrs. Barnes takes the baby and fondles it.) 

Mrs. Barnes. You’re mine!—mine!—mine!— 
(She holds the baby in one arm and stretches the 
other out to Mrs. Keegan who takes her out¬ 
stretched hand and holds it a while) 

Mrs. Keegan. To think that you’re goin’ to keep 
him- 

(Mrs. Barnes gives the baby to Mrs. Keegan and 
stands looking down at him.) 

Mrs. Barnes. Mrs. Keegan, Jim’s home — out of 
work—just fate I guess—been drinkin’ too; I don’t 
know, I don’t know- 

Mrs. Keegan. That don’t make no difference at 
all, at all. 

Mrs. Barnes. You see I can’t do it all alone— 
together we might just about manage. 

Mrs. Keegan. You earn enough yourself to sup¬ 
port the child. *• 

Mrs. Barnes. That’s not enough! He must be 
well brought up—I can’t let him risk havin’ a life 
without nothin’ in it. 

Mrs. Keegan. It’s a foolish woman you are - 

Mrs. Barnes. It looked easy before — but now— 
with Jim drinkin’—I don’t know! {Pause) He 
loved our boys. —But if he can’t resist, there’ll be 
no child in the house! ( She stoops and takes 
the child again and speaks to it softly) Mine!— 
mine !—mine!—mine!—mine ! 

Mrs. Keegan. Do ye mean surely that ye will 
not take the child unless himself is to-? 

Mrs. Barnes. That I do! I’ll have no child 
with a drunken man around! What way would 
that be to raise a boy ? 






THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE. 


J 3 


Mrs. Keegan. But others does it. 

Mrs. Barnes. They’re wrong! I can’t—I 
won’t! It is a duty I owe the child. 

Mrs. Keegan. And will he have to go maybe to 
the Orphan’s Home? 

(Mrs. Barnes bows her head over the child.) 

Mrs. Barnes. It’ll be better so. 

(Silence . Mrs. Keegan zvatches Mrs. Barnes and 
wipes a tear away before she speaks.) 

Mrs. Keegan. And you so lonely-! 

Mrs. Barnes. Don’t—don’t—can’t you see— 
how much I want —! (Noise of something drop¬ 

ping on the floor in the adjoining room is heard. 
Mrs. Barnes holds the child for a moment, then 
gives it to Mrs. Keegan and motions her to the 
door, looking meanwhile toward the bed-room door) 
Go now! I must talk to Jim—he’s cornin’ out. Go, 

go! Come back after a little. - I do hope I can 

keep the baby—I hope so—I hope so- 

(Mrs. Keegan has gone up tozvards the door, rear. 
Jim opens the door and comes in just in time to 
hear the last few words that Mrs. Keegan 
speaks as she is going out the door.) 

Mrs. Keegan. In a little while I’ll bring back 
the baby. 

Jim. Baby? {He goes towards the door and 
looks after her) What’s she here fur agin? 

(Mrs. Barnes is sitting at the table with her head 

in her hands.) 

Mrs. Barnes. Oh, Jim, Jim-! 

Jim. What baby’s she talkin’ ’bout? ( Silence) 






14 


THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE. 


’Was a baby in the street-car I come home on— 
right side o’ me. I talked to her and she—she had 
a apple and she gi’ me it—and I give it back. (Mrs. 
Barnes sits up and watches him as if she were 
measuring his strength) ’T fell on the floor—there 
was ’nother man—but I—I give it back. I— 
{He stops and turning to look intently at the woman 
asks in a strained voice and very soberly) Mary, 
we ought to have some kids around here ? 

Mrs. Keegan. You say that, Jim Barnes ! 

(Jim turns away meditatively.) 

Jim. A baby—its hands was—fat- 

Mrs. Barnes. Is it me that don’t want a child? 

Jim. {To himself) ’Twas a cute one. 

Mrs. Barnes. A man that spends his money for 
drink can’t raise a family. 

Jim. I work and I git good pay. I ain’t touched 
a drop fur a long time. 

Mrs. Barnes. But, Jim, you been drinkin’ to¬ 
day—to-day of all times ! If you only knew ! 

Jim. Well, well, just a drop. I was knocked out 
bein’ laid off. Now ’twas only a drop. If you don’t 
believe it— (Jim gets up and takes a handful of bills 
and change from his pocket) There’s my pay— 
count and see. (Mrs. Barnes takes the money and 
puts it in a purse in the cupboard. He watches her) 
That baby in the street-car—and—we—buried ours, 
Mary. 

Mrs. Barnes. If our own’d a lived, I wonder if 
we could a raised ’em right? 

Jim. I’d worked harder’n hell! It’s kids we 
need! I’d a kept sober, too- 

Mrs. Barnes. Are you sure o’ it, Jim? are you 
sure? 

Jim. Sure I am! (Jim is uneasy and changes 
the subject) Ain’t there goin’ to be no supper? 

Mrs. Barnes. Yes, Jim—it’s early yet—I’ll put 




THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE. 


15 


on the kettle—there’s bread and onions and we’ll 
have a cup o’ tea. ( She busies herself with the fire, 
the kettle and the table during the following) 

Jim. Mary? 

Mrs. Barnes. Yes? 

(He gets up and staggers towards the stove.) 

Jim. Mary, it’s your damned high and mighty 
goin’s on have made trouble fur us. 

Mrs. Barnes. Oh, no, Jim! 

(He gets too near the stove and in staggering a 
little he burns his hand. He starts back and 
cries out plaintively.) 

Jim. I’ve burned me! 

(Mrs. Barnes conies over to him, makes him 
sit in the big chair and looks at the hand.) 

Mrs. Barnes. It’s not hurt, Jim. 

Jim. I say it’s burned! 

Mrs. Barnes. I’ll tie it up. (She gets old linen 
from the drawer in the cupboard and binds the 
hand zvhile he zvatches her closely, looking at her 
affectionately all the zvhile) 

Jim. You’re a good girl. 

Mrs. Barnes. Oh, Jim. 

Jim. What’s the matter — ? (Silence) Hum! 
What’s eatin’ you to-day? You ain’t like yourself, 
Mary. 

Mrs. Barnes. It’s hard, Jim ! 

Jim. Now, Mary, I ain’t touched a drop for ever 
so long—it’s just to-day loosin’ my job. 

Mrs. Barnes. If only I could be sure! With 
your money in the saloon-keeper’s cash-box, what 
way could we raise a boy ? 

Jim. You act—a person’d think you was glad— 


i6 


THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE. 


your fool ideas,—mother’s classes—damned settle- 
ment house—bein’ clean—hah—that’s why they 
died, I guess- 

Mrs. Barnes. Don’t Jim,—I know why they 
died! I don’t want ever to have to throw it up to 
you—but—don’t, don’t accuse me about the boys’ 
death! 

Jim. Well, I ain’t glad they died. A man wants 
a kid around sometimes. 

{Silence.) 

Mrs. Barnes. Jim, it might all be right yet if 
you’d stop drinkin’. 

Jim. Mary, the stuff won’t let me alone. - If 

they’d a lived maybe I’d a done different. 

Mrs. Barnes. I wonder. (She watches him, 
trying to decide what to do) 

Jim. If we just had one like that was in the 
street-car, now- 

(Mrs. Barnes goes to him, puts her hands on his 
shoulders and looks him squarely in the eye.) 

t I 

Mrs. Barnes. Look here, Jim! (She hesitates) 
Jim. Hum? 

Mrs. Barnes. I’d like—I’d like to adopt Sarah 
Donnell’s baby- 

Jim. (Pleased) A baby—us with a baby? 

Mrs. Barnes. You’d like that? 

Jim. Would I? —That’s what Mrs. Keegan- 

Mrs. Barnes. Yes- 

Jim. You an’ me - 

Mrs. Barnes. I’d be so happy, Jim! 

Jim. A baby- 


(Mrs. Barnes grows serious and speaks earnestly, 
trying to impress him.) 










THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE. 


17 


Mrs. Barnes. If you was a steady man I’d do it. 

Jim. I’ll be steady—I’ll hunt a new job yet to¬ 
day till I find it. - You’ll see, you’ll see—Never 

a drop will I drink except it be a taste of the tea 
from your pot there on the stove. I’ll be a man for 
that baby and for you, Mary. 

Mrs. Brnes. Oh, Jim, Jim! If you will do it— 
(She smiles and brushes away a tear) 

J-im. I will that! I’ll go now—( He has risen 
and nozv he starts towards the door as if he were 
going out) 

Mrs. Barnes. Don’t! We’ll be havin’ our 
tea and be thinkin’ what’s best to be done. Oh, 
Jim, you make me that happy! Soon, now, Mrs. 
Keegan’ll come back with the baby. 

Jim. Our baby? 

Mrs. Barnes. Yes, Jim, yes—our baby! We 
will keep it, won’t we? 

Jim. We— we will - 

(There is a moment's silence.) 

Mrs. Barnes. Won’t we be happy now? 

Jim. We will that. I must find work right off. 

Mrs. Barnes. If only you— It’s been a long 
time now, but to-day makes me wonder about you. 
You will, won’t you—won’t you? 

(Mrs. Barnes’ doubt of him grows. She stands and 

watches him.) 

Mrs. Barnes. It’s a undertakin’ to raise a boy 
right, you know. 

Jim. You’ll be a good mother to ’im. 

Mrs. Barnes. But it’s just as much what sort 
of a father he has that counts, or maybe more! 

Jim. ( Vaguely) Yes! Yes! Of course; of 
course! 

Mrs. Barnes. But don’t you see, Jim, that it 




18 THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE. 

wouldn’t do ever to let him see you come home like 
to-day? Besides it will take all the money we both 
earn—all of it—to bring him up. 

Jim. Well I want him, too, just as much as—as 
you do—o’ course I do- 

(Mrs. Barnes’ doubt grozvs.) 

Mrs. Barnes. Well, let’s have our supper. (She 
goes to the cupboard while he goes to the basin and 
washes his hands. Mrs. Barnes opens the cup¬ 
board and takes out a loaf of bread which Jim, zvith 
his back turned, does not see. She starts for the 
table zvith the bread, looks at Jim, and, then making 
a resolve after a moment’s hesitation, turns and 
puts the bread back in the cupboard and gets a 
pocket-book from which she takes a piece of 
money) The first thing in the morning you’ll need 
to lo,ok for a job. 

Jim. Sure. 

Mrs. Barnes. Oh, say, I forgot to get any bread. 
You get a loaf at Peele’s, just the other side of 
Hogan’s saloon, you know. Take this. (She gives 
him the money) ,. 

Jim. It’s a loaf o’ bread you need, is it? 

Mrs. Barnes. Yes, it’s bread I’m sending you 
after. You needn’t be but a minute. To the 
grocery for bread, you know! {He goes out the 
door, rear. She follows him and stands by the door 
to see which zvay he goes. Then she turns and 
clasps her hands in silent prayer. She goes to the 
table and begins work on a bunch of flowers but she 
is too nervous and excited to keep on zvith it. She 
smiles and looks zvorried in turn. She walks about; 
now going to the door, nozv arranging a dish on the 
table, nozv looking at the tea, etc. She is standing 
with her back to the door when Mrs. Keegan and 
the baby are seen through the door and, as Mrs. 
Barnes hears the rattling of the door knob, she 



THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE. 


19 


cries out gladly) Jim! ( She turns as Mrs. 
Keegan comes in and her tone changes from one 
of gladness to one of doubt) Oh, it’s you. 

Mrs. Keegan. Yes. I saw that man o’ yours 
goin’ out so I thought I’d run in now. 

Mrs. Barnes. Yes, yes. 

Mrs. Keegan. Are you goin’ to have the baby 
sure? The whole neighborhood is that proud o’ 
you- 

Mrs. Barnes. He wants him as much as ever I 
do but the liquor’s strong with him yet, I’m afraid. 

Mrs. Keegan. Well, maybe the child is just 
what he’s needin’ to keep him sober. 

Mrs. Barnes. I’ll run no such risks! It’s up to 
him to decide. I give him a quarter to go and buy 
bread. It’s a test. If he comes back without the 
bread you must go away with the baby—mine—mine 
—dear child—( She caresses the child; for the 
moment very happy) 

Mrs. Keegan. If himself spends the money fur 
drink you mean you’d not—you mean I’ve got to 
take the baby away fur good? 

Mrs. Barnes. Yes, that’s it, that’s it- 

Mrs. Keegan. But what will all them neighbors 
say ? 

Mrs. Barnes. Promise—promise-! 

Mrs. Keegan. W—well—all right—if you say 
so- 

(Silence. Mrs. Barnes zvalks up and down, paus¬ 
ing to look at the baby. She can hardly keep 
her hands off it. After a little Mrs. Keegan 
can contain herself no longer and she blurts 
out.)' 

Mrs. Keegan. D’you think-? 

(Mrs. Barnes shakes her head and puts out her 







20 


THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE. 


hand with a movement that commands silence. 
A nervous, tense pause.) 

Mrs. Barnes. I wish Jim would come! (Mrs. 
Barnes walks nervously again. Finally she stops 
and kneels in front of the child, facing the rear. 
She caresses the baby, saying soft endearments to it 
all the while) Mine, mine!—mine!—dear, dear!— 
mine! (Jim has appeared at the door, rear. He 
holds a small whiskey bottle in one hand. Mrs. 
Barnes looks up and sees him) Jim! 

(Mrs. Keegan gets up and steps to one side, look¬ 
ing toward the rear. Mrs. Barnes bows her 
head upon the chair beside which she had been 
kneeling. Jim has staggered into the room.) 

Mrs. Keegan. Poor dear, a shame it is- 

(Jim comes forward and Mrs. Barnes rises.) 

Jim. That’s you—o-old M-Mrs. Keegan - 

(Mrs. Barnes leads him to a chair, and turns to¬ 
wards Mrs. Keegan as she speaks.) 

Mrs. Barnes. You see—it’s impossible—now 
— (Jim tries to put the bottle to his lips to drink 
from it but Mrs. Barnes takes it from him after a 
little struggle and drops it onto the table. Jim laughs 
in a maudlin fashion) Jim! why did you—why!— 
why did you do it—! 

Jim. Y-you gi’me the—m-money - 

Mrs. Keegan. It’s ashamed o’ yourself you 
aught to be, Jim Barnes. 

(She has come a step towards him while she speaks. 
He looks at her and tries to get up from his 
chair .) 





THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE. 


21 


Jim. Put down our—n-new baby—I—say—you 
put it—d-down- 

Mrs. Keegan. (To Mrs. Barnes) You’re goin’ 
to keep it Mrs.-? 

(Jim has struggled to his feet.) 

Jim. Keep it?— o’ course—. You just mind 

y-your own business- 

Mrs. Barnes. No, Jim, we do not keep it - 

(Jim turns towards her and takes a step or two un¬ 
steadily.) 

Jim. We do—I say we do ! We—we—d-do— 
keep it- 

Mrs. Keegan. (To Mrs. Barnes) Why don’t 
you-? 

Mrs. Barnes. (Wearily) There’ll never be a 
child in this house ! (She motions Mrs. Keegan to 
qo, but she does not understand and comes nearer) 
Go! Go! 

(Mrs. Keegan starts for the door. Jim tries to 

follow.) 

Jim. No you d-don’t there! 

(Mrs. Barnes gets between them and tries to push 
him away from Mrs. Keegan whom he has 
almost overtaken.) 

Mrs. Barnes. Jim! Jim! 

(He seizes Mary’s arm and wrenches it. He 
grumbles in an ugly manner and they struggle 
for a moment before she is able to get free. 
He has hurt her arm. Mrs. Keegan has been 
standing about not knowing what to do.) 









/ 


22 THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE. 

Mrs. Keegan. Oh! Oh, deary me! Oh! Oh! 
Oh-! 

(Mrs. Barnes succeeds in pushing Jim back into 
the chair where he sits stupidly overcome by 
the exertion. Mrs. Keegan has gone up by the 
door where Mrs. Barnes follows her. She 
kisses the baby. She has almost lost control 
of herself.) 

Mrs. Barnes. ( Softly ) I did so want you. 

(Mrs. Keegan goes out slowly, shaking her head. 
Jim struggles up again when he sees Mrs. 
Keegan going with the baby. Mrs. Barnes 
is standing by the table and Jim sinks back into 
the chair again.) 

Mrs. Barnes. You’ve made your choice, Jim. 
(She lifts the bottle from the table and stands look¬ 
ing at it. Almost bitterly) It’s took this one from 
me as it took my others, too! 

(Mrs. Barnes lets the bottle fall onto the table, 
sinks into a chair and buries her face in her 
hands as the curtain falls slowly.) 




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